Monday was the day Ma was to be home from hospital but as expected, she is still there. I'd not been for a few days to see her; I'd felt so unwell with this and then guilty for not going. It was lovely on Monday as she didn't expect me to go. I'm smiling thinking about her face when she saw me, even though I looked rougher than a badger's very rough bits. And I'm sure you can imagine how rough that would be...
I wore my breast cancer care top to the hospital today, as Ma was in hospital for her lumpectomy the last time I wore it and I wore it then, because we thought she'd be home the same day. But she wasn't.
I'd filmed one of our cats, Rosie, making that "I can see a bird" noise while sitting by the window, staring up at the tree just outside the front room. I played it to Ma and she laughed at that lovely sound. To be able to film, at home, everyday noises and happenings that you don't really think about, and then to take the camera to hospital so my Mum can see what's still going on is a marvel, to be sure. I've taken photos of Ma and me which I shall send to my Auntie, Ma's sister, and I can show them to brother J (makes him sound like a monk. But he's not bald. Yet.) as he's not been to see her yet, owing to his snotface. Sorry, I mean cold.
And still, what concerns me most (apart from the obvious) is will I be able to do enough things to keep the house ticking over and to look after Mum the best I can? I'm barely able to sort out the kitchen. And we have a dishwasher! It's not hard work. But I risk breaking plates and dropping mugs and cups and chipping them, in my clumsy state. Ironing is beginning to require... er, ironing. Crinkly clothes will not do. Unless they're meant to be crinkled. Unfortunately, most are not.
I understand what some truly lovely people have said, about what my Mum needs is me and the family but... with my periods being so horrific, she has helped me more than I can remember, and not just with periods. I feel I owe her. BIG TIME. And at the times when she'll most need my help, when she'll need her breakfast, lunch or dinner, a cup of tea made, her hair washed, help with getting dressed, I will very likely be unable to do that. My Dad is wonderful, there's no argument there and I don't expect him to do more than he does; he has very bad arthritis of the (a) hip which needs replacing - soon - and I see how much pain he is in and wish so much that I could stop it. Obviously, though, I can't.
I know as each day passes, she will be a little more mobile than the day before but it is this first week or so, and the days when I will be most unwell when she will most need me. As the days go by, with me feeling better each day, so shall my Ma, I hope.
But with me feeling worse than a sack of shit warmed up, it makes doing the washing, ironing, dusting, vacuuming, feeding of cats, clearing up the cats' trays deposits and anything they may leave elsewhere in the house by way of vomiting, a lot more difficult than it needs to be. Some help would be very much appreciated. I doubt that the person I feel should help, will actually do so. For me, though, now, it is time for sleep. One orange cat to put to bed, telly off, upstairs, sleep. The sleep bit is always hoped for, not always achieved. At least Alistair Yates is on with his voice of gravitas and reason. G'night Al...